SYOT 100th Hunger Games
by The Puffer Bomber
Summary: Hello everybody! This is THE Puffer Bomber here with my first SYOT Hunger Games Fanfiction! The guidelines will be in the first chapter. With that, I hope everybody enjoys! Toodle-oo!
1. SYOT Guidelines

Hello everybody! This is THE Puffer Bomber here with my first SYOT Hunger Games Fanfiction! Any tributes will be greatly appreciated. There will be no guarantee that your tribute will be used. With that said, here is the SYOT format and guidelines. Remember, you don't have to answer everything. I will be accepting SYOTS in both the reviews section or private messaging.

Name

(Pretty self-explanatory. If you only have a first name, that's totally fine.)

Sex

(Also pretty self-explanatory.)

District

(You can list multiple if you want and I'll choose if your first priority is already taken)

Age

(How old exactly? Remember, 12-18!)

Appearance

(I don't need a whole lot of details, just give me a glimpse of what they look like- for example, what color hair, muscular or not, etc etc.)

Personality

(Star crossed lovers? Sob story? Also, please NO copies of official Hunger Games characters.)

Backstory

(What happened before they got Reaped/Volunteered?)

Family

(What their families are like.)

Reaping Scene Details

(It's the Quarter Quell so there's a special rule no volunteers. For this just some optional details plz!)

Token

(It's okay if you don't have one.)

Strengths

(Again, don't go for all-perfects. If you do, I'll probably have them die of a stupid reason like starving. Nothing offensive, but it's just that they don't usually win.

Weaknesses

(Same thing as Strengths, no all-perfects please!)

Weapon of Choice

(Your character can also be a person who just doesn't know what to do, no weapon of choice and all that.)

Training Score

(Doesn't really matter, as long as it fits the character.)

Parade Outfit

(Give me some ideas please I'm not a fashion expert.)

Interview Angle

(Are they going for threatening? Laid back?)

Interview Outfit

(Same thing as the parade costumes, anything will do!)

Bloodbath Death?

(If I don't get enough Bloodbaths, I'll just randomly pick some off the list.)

Plan in the Games

(What will they do?)

Ally or Loner?

(Do they like to ally or go solo?)

Flight or Fight Instinct?

(Self-explanatory. For example, you see a big, mighty Career. Does the character fight or flee?)


	2. Information

Hey guys- It's THE Puffer Bomber again. In this world, the Capitol had control of the Districts again- the rebellion had been quickly stamped out by the tyranny of the Capitol. AND, as a plus, this is the 100th Hunger Games which means… QUARTER QUELL! Any ideas?


	3. Hint-Hint

Hint Hint… Jurassic World.

Waiting on those tributes, sponsors!


	4. UPDATE

District 4 Male taken!

BTW, do you guys want me to start writing whenever I get a tribute, or after I get all the tributes? I can also make some tributes if I don't get enough, so cheers!


	5. UPDATE 2

I will write every day or two, as long as I get them tribute ideas in the review section or PM (Private Messaging)!


	6. The Announcement

The entire nation quiets, focusing on their screens. It was time for the announcement of the 4th Quarter Quell, and it was a mandatory viewing- whether at people's various homes, or in the District squares. It is a live presentation, straight from the Capitol. The camera zones into focus onto the speech podium, where President Snow is standing, followed by a boy holding a simple wooden box.

Coriolanus Snow was wearing a crisp suit, of course with his sickly, genetically engineered rose in the breast pocket. "Ladies and gentlemen. This is the 100th year of the Hunger Games!" The Capitolite audience screamed in glee. "As you all know, every 25 years we celebrate the anniversary of the Games, to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died during the rebellion. Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by a Game of special significance." The audience cheered again. "And now on this 100th anniversary of the defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the 4th Quarter Quell!"

"As a reminder to the rebels of the chaos of the Dark Days, this Quarter Quell will have..." He paused, and the audience grew deadly quiet. "Three twists in the games. First of all, to remind the rebels that they will always fail, no matter how hard they try, the community can choose to pool their money in for fallen tributes. The tribute that receives the most funds by the end of the day will be revived. A tribute can only be revived once. Secondly, to remind the rebels of the Capitol's forgiveness, each tribute will receive a special gift when they most need it. And finally, to remind the rebels that the Capitol overpowers the Districts, the arena will be more dangerous and threatening than ever before, in the history of Panem. Thank you." The crowd erupted into chaos, cheering and hooting more loudly than ever, excited for this special Capitol was cruel like this, the children of the Capitol growing up watching teenagers mercilessly slaughtering each other like it was a perfectly normal thing to do.

President Snow returned to his office, mildly pleased with himself. "Send Chanel Sanchez over, please." He ordered the avox. A few minutes later, the new Head Gamemaker Chanel Sanchez came bustling in the door.

"Sir, was there a reas-" She sounded annoyed as if she was in the middle of something. Designing the arena, probably.

"Sit." He ordered. "Do you understand the reason I had Tyson Liu executed?" Tyson Liu was the previous Head Gamemaker. The last arena was a total failure- no originality, no excitement. Almost no killings and basically everybody dies of natural causes. So, an enraged President Snow had him gruesomely executed. His head was on a pedestal in the Hall of Fames, as a reminder to the remaining Gamemakers.

"Sir, I assure you that this year's arena will not be the failure he designed." Chanel said, her bravo gone.

"Yes indeed, it will not. That is why I have taken things into my own hands." Snow passed Chanel a thick, cream-colored folder.

She frowned and flipped through it. "You've designed an arena yourself sir? I thought-"

"You thought? Well, Liu thought as well. You can thank me now." He sat smugly, watching the woman spectate his designs. If she dared to do so much as complain, her head would probably end up next to Tyson Liu's as well.

"Sir, but we don't have the technology for such mu-" Once again, Snow cut her off.

"You'll find the funds and the building plans in the back." He snarled. "Now, get out!" He was getting impatient with the new Head Gamemaker. God, she was so annoying! Or it was just he had a very thin patience to begin with. Probably the latter, he thought.

"What about the arena we already built?" She protested.

"Oh, just scrap it." He carelessly tossed. Seeing Chanel's shocked expression, he snarled, "Or save it for next year!" He smirked, seeing the crestfallen expression on her face. Ungrateful swine… He thought. "Now, get out!" He roared.

Chanel, cowering, scurried out of the door with Snow right on her tail, slamming the door tight behind her.

Smugly, he sat back down and relaxed in his chair. This was going to be the best one yet.


	7. District 4 Reapings Full

District 4 Male, **Cerulean Saltsider** (Leon) (17)

* * *

Nothing in the world was worse than the _beep-beep _of Leon's digital alarm clock. _Nothing in the world._

He reached over to his nightstand and angrily chucked it across the room. Leon succeeded in making it crash into the far wall, but it kept beeping. _Beep-beep. Beep-beep._

"Wow." He muttered to himself, groggily getting out of his warm twin bed. His family was neither rich nor poor- they were somewhere squat in the middle. That meant money still had to be saved, but occasionally they could splurge out on some small luxuries.

The fifteen year old shut the alarm clock calmly like he should've done in the first place, and frowned as he looked inside his closet. He didn't really have a lot of "reaping fit" clothing- he never had a proper taste for fashion. Shrugging, he lazily threw on the first outfit he could find, and headed out of his bedroom.

"Hey." He snatched an energy bar to munch on on his way to the Center. District 1, 2, and 4 all had their own Training Centers, being Career districts and all. Train hard, just in case, he told himself. He was one of those rare people who was wise enough not to go sprinting towards death.

His mother frowned. "Going to the Center?"

"Yep!" He bent down and hugged both of his parents. "We should celebrate when the Reapings are over. Maybe go to the Shoal." The Shoal was a mall in District 4, packed full of merchandise stands and dining stalls. It wasn't a luxury, but hey- compared to the other districts, you can't complain. And it was expensive.

Soon, he arrived at the training center. He threw open the double glass doors and breathed in the smell of sweat. Bay smiled to himself- he loved training. The older trainees teased and picked on him a lot, but he just shrugged it off. Let them pick on him- let them waste their energy. Meanwhile, _he _would spend _his _energy on training. He hated bullies, spoiled brats who take it out on others just because they were weaker than their targets.

He headed towards his favorite weapon, the spear. He picked up one from the rack and tapped a few commands on the portal station.

The reality target practice kicked into place, and orange silhouettes began flickering around the empty spear throwing range. The first spear shattered two silhouettes as they overlapped each other, and the second slammed into another silhouette that just appeared.

_Perfect._ He grinned.

_1 hour later…_

Leon stepped forwards, certain of himself. "Give me your hand," The woman at the registration table ordered. She literally grabbed his wrist and stabbed the needle into his index finger. He winced at the unnecessary force but didn't say anything. He filed forwards along with the rest of the seventeen year olds.

"Hello, District 4!" A high-pitched voice trilled from the stage. It was their escort, Victoria Riches. She had dyed her hair streaks of gold and silver, and was wearing top-capitol fashion.

It was funny how all the Capitol names were so pompous and arrogant. "Now it is time for us to select one courageous young man and woman- for the honor of competing in the 100th Hunger Games. But before that, the mayor would like to say a few kind words!" She clapped and stopped a few seconds afterwards as it was clear that she was the only one clapping.

The mayor stepped up to the podium and rambled for a few minutes about the Treaty of Treason and all that. As usual, no one listened.

"Now, it is time to select our male tribute!" Our escort beamed. She wobbled to the female Reaping Bowl in high heels. Her powdered white hand rummaged through the slips, powder coating everything in the bowl like chalk. Finally, she pulls one out and walks over to the podium. With an elegant flick, she opens the slip of paper that contained the fate of that one unlucky boy. (Or lucky, depending on your perspective.)

He was thinking about how one last year's male tribute wannabe-volunteers while running up to the stairs slipped on the steps, fell down, broke his nose, and got knocked out as ten more boys trampled him trying to get on stage. He remembered his family getting a good laugh out of that one, and he started to grin. Honestly, how stupid. Just why? He stopped when he realized everybody was staring at him.

"Now, don't be shy, come on up!"

* * *

District 4 Female, **Aberdeen Conch** (12)

* * *

Lunch was Aberdeen's favorite part of the day. For once, she didn't have to listen to the endless prattle of her irritating teachers. But more importantly, it was time to bully her target again.

The cafeteria was quiet, but that didn't stop Aberdeen from doing what she did the best. She sauntered over to Ariel, her trademark smirk on her face. They were both 12, but Aberdeen clearly had the dominance. Her classmate flinched at expression, even though it had been of Aberdeen's face every day for the entire year.

Cocking her eyebrow, she said, "Hand over the food." She didn't say anymore than she had to. Ariel wouldn't dare to disobey her this time. After all, last time Aberdeen had thrown her backpack over the district fence.

The other girl gulped. She didn't say a word and fumbled with the clasp of her lunchbox. "Hurry up, I haven't got all day." Aberdeen snarled. After what seemed like an eternity, Ariel passed over a sandwich and an apple. An apple? Well that was certainly a change. Ariel's parents must've gotten more money to kill.

"Mmm. This apple is so juicy!" She exclaimed, spraying juice all over Ariel. "Such flavor." She remarked sarcastically. Making sure Ariel was watching, she poised to take an exaggerated bite of the sandwich. Not a single person in the cafeteria was talking, not a sliver of movement.

Until she heard crinkling of paper behind her. She whipped her head backwards, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. In her hand, clenched tightly was a small plastic baggie. There was a slight smear of cream on Ariel's face. Probably a tart of some sort, from the local bakery.

"I'm sorry!" She squeaked. "I- j-just, I…"

The look Aberdeen sent her was absolutely murderous. _Save it for later, _she thought. She was pissed. No, beyond pissed. She couldn't believe Ariel hid that treat from her. After all, she should have know there would be cruel consequences- the last time her backpack had ended up stuck in the toilet. For the rest of lunch, she ignored Ariel's furtive glances towards her, maybe some start of an apology.

By the end of lunch, she knew exactly what she was going to do. A wicked, sticky sweet grin lit up her face. This would be much, much worse than having her bag in the toilet.

The rest of the school day passed especially slow, since Aberdeen had something planned in mind. As soon as the bell rang, she grabbed her bag and scrambled out of the front doors. Instead of turning right towards her house, she dashed down the left alleyway. There was a tall, shiny building, practically the only good-looking building in the entire District. Well, except for the Victor's Village, of course.

There was a small booth on the side. She smiled cruelly, then pushed open the door of the Tesserae office. There was a burly woman sitting behind the counter, reading a paper and smoking a pipe. She straightened when Aberdeen came in, and give her a quick cursory glance.

"Can I help you?" She said gruffly.

Aberdeen tried to disguise her grin. "Yes, in fact. I would like to take out 25 slips of tesserae, please." She said sweetly. She coughed to disguise her laugh. She was going to go for a number like a fifty, but it had to be believable.

The woman frowned slightly but said nothing- she probably just thought Aberdeen was incredibly poor. "Twenty-five." She muttered, jotting something down on an official looking paper.

"What's your name?"

Aberdeen smiled widely, without even bothering to hide it. Without skipping a beat, she said, "My name is Ariel Waven."


	8. UPDATE 3

Hi guys- I put the D4F on the previous chapter. From now on, each chapter will have both male and female perspectives in each district.


	9. SYOT CLOSED

Final List of Tributes! SYOT is now closed. You can still submit other character ideas tho, like mentors, stylists, etc.

D1M- Valor Tyran (17)

D1F- Pearl Escenie (18)

D2M- Pierre Kent (18)

D2F- Hestia Black (17)

D3M- Cirkyt Watts (18)

D3F- Zelda Watts (12)

D4M- Cerulean (Leon) Saltsider (17)

D4F- Aberdeen Conch (12)

D5M- Link Linther (15)

D5F- Milian Garther (14)

D6M- Swift Carter (16)

D6F- Pana Quinn (13)

D7M- Jack Lumber (15)

D7F- Jazmyn O'Choppa (14)

D8M- Benjamin Lu (16)

D8F- Sage Whitney (15)

D9M- Brule Larsson (14)

D9F- Hadassah (Haddie) Straebel (17)

D10M- Vulcan Ranch (18)

D10F- Jessie Garldel (14)

D11M- Vestor Mendez (16)

D11F- Wheatsan Fields (15)

D12M- Ansley Burns (13)

D12F- Quince Razon (18)


	10. D9 Reapings Full

D9M, **Brule Larsson**, 14

* * *

Brule woke up to his mother hovering over him. His vision was a bit blurry from just waking up. He rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn. She had already opened the curtain before he was awake, and the sunlight was shining in his eyes. Just keeping his eyes open was proving to be a difficult task.

"Morning, mom." Brule said, his voice husky from the night. Even if he wasn't in a good mood, he always made an effort to sound as bright as possible around her and help her around. If he sounded cheerful, she wouldn't have to look after him and that took a lot of stress off her shoulders.

Especially after what happened five years ago.

He was only 9 back then, and as usual, his dad had hugged him goodbye before heading off unusually early to the grain fields. So naturally, young Bruce was mortified when his father on live TV, in the crowding rebels. He looked happy, even. The crowd screamed and shouted as they paraded down the cramped streets. There seemed to be thousands of people out, holding signs and posters.

Then, the Peacekeepers arrived. The rebels pushed ranks against the Peacekeepers, and the two sides squabbled for a moment. It first looked like the rebels were even winning, with the sheer amount of people, but the bricks thrown were no match for the Peacekeeper's guns. Then, the gunshots began. Buildings and stand collapsed, and the previous bravo of the crowd was all gone as they started to scream in terror instead of anger and attempted to flee the scene.

That was the last time he ever saw his father.

"Morning," She responded in a soft, barely audible voice. She was like glass, easily prone to shattering. "I'll be leaving for work soon, so don't forget about the chores. I'll be working late today."

Hearing those words made Brule more awake then ever. His mom juggled multiple jobs, just to support him and his family. His grown sisters had long moved out, one of them were engaged, and they were pretty detached from the rest of his family. So it was just him and his little brother. They didn't mind doing the chores.

"Have a good day mom. See you at dinner!" He chirped as she made her way out of the room. Ever since she picked up a fourth job as a trader, they literally almost never had family time, which was disappointing. He had a small job, which unfortunately didn't pay much. You could only work in the grain fields once you were 18, and there weren't a lot of jobs for underage people.

"Alright." He could hear her voice becoming fainter as she went down the hall. "Love you Brule!" That was barely audible.

"Love you too!" Moments later, the front door slammed. Obediently, he got up, changed, and stumbled out his bedroom door. His little brother was still asleep, and he didn't bother to wake him up. He grabbed a loaf of rough tesserae grain bread and munched on it as he ran through his mental checklist. _Clean the house. Fix the busted television control box. Finish a diorama for school._

He grabbed the control and walked outside to tinker with it on the front steps. The wind blew threw the open doors and the closet door creaked open. His eyes narrowed in suspicion- his mom had been in there again. He had only snooped in their once- there was a small box containing all the memories of his dad. There were a few photos, some keepsakes and a birthday letter he had written to Brule's mom when he was still alive. It had been a shame that Brule had never gotten to see his father ever in his life.

For some reason he was always resentful, mad even that his father would be so careless rebelling and stopped caring about his future children. _His birthday's tomorrow, _a small voice chirped in the back of his head. He angrily shook it away- he didn't want anything to do with his dad before he was even born.

The control box buzzed to life after a few minutes. _If only fixing your life was that easy..._ He sighed. Life would never be the same.

* * *

D9F, **Hadassah (Haddie) Straebel**, 16

* * *

Haddie stared down at the cash she had just received. She counted out the money to herself, then sighed. It was the same every week, and she didn't know why she expected more. Maybe it was because she was an excellent worker and had gotten quite a lot of sales with her personality. The standard job in District 9 was working the grain fields, and she was currently underage, so she had applied to work under one of the local drug stores.

Her family was generally a well-off one in District 9, with enough space in their house to not feel cramped and enough money to get by. After school Haddie would feel incredibly bored so she settled on working for some pocket money.

Her shift was over for the day, and the sky was gradually turning from an appealing shade of blue to a deep splash of orange. The shopkeeper, Sloan, plucked a bottle of pills from a selected shelf and handed it to Haddie. "Keep it. For your father," He said with a kind smile. Her father had recently fallen victim to a type of fever, and without her father working in the fields there was no current income.

"Thanks." Haddie grinned.

"My pleasure," Sloan said, and tipped an imaginary hat. Haddie ran out of the store, clutching the medicine tightly. The local medicine were all homemade remedies, nowhere near as effective as the high-tech, powerful ones they brewed in the Capitol labs. Still, she had her hopes up that one day, one day he would recover and everything would be back to normal. Her family was a well-rounded one, with a clean record. She was loved and cared about, so as far as that went, she was happy.

By the time she arrived home, the sky had turned a beautiful color of royal blue. She unlocked the door and allowed herself in. "I'm home!" She shouted, taking off her boots and padding across the foyer. "Dad?"

"Right here, hon." Her father's weak voice called out. He was in the living room, reading the paper on his rocking chair. She crossed the room and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Are you feeling okay?" She asked, feeling for him temperature. He brushed her hand away.

"Never been better," He joked. "Just a little more tired than usual." Haddie bit her lip, and handed her father the medicine.

"After you take that, I'll fix up some dinner. Sounds good?" She smiled kindly.

"Oh good, I'm starving." Her father said, rolling his eyes. Haddie went over to the kitchen and started looking for their tesserae grain. Her hands fastened on the top of the bag but she stopped and a terrible thought came over her.

_What if I get reaped tomorrow? Who would take care of my father? _But she took it off. She had only taken a single slip of tesserae just to cover up for her father's sickness, but that was it. _I can't think like that. Just two more years, and we'll all be safe._

_Assuming that I don't get reaped tomorrow._

_Right?_


End file.
